


Jealousy

by SkyOfDust



Series: Jealous Fenris is pretty hot [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Eventual Fluff, Eventual Smut, Fenders, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-25
Updated: 2016-10-30
Packaged: 2018-08-24 13:46:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8374402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkyOfDust/pseuds/SkyOfDust
Summary: Hawke flirts with Anders.Fenris doesn't like that.So Fenris growls a lot.And Anders might like that, after all.Part one : fluff and main story.Part two : smutty last scene.





	1. I'll show you why mages are feared

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Polski available: [Zazdrość](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11407251) by [Regalia1992 (orphan_account)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Regalia1992)



> Sooo  
> I'm back with a new story. It will be very short, just a few chapters. I think. I hope. And there's no background, just the relationships.  
> I like it when Fenris growls. Jealous Fenris is the best. So he really doesn't like Hawke and Anders flirting. And Anders definitely doesn't like Fenris' and Hawke's complicity.  
> I hope you'll like it. Don't hesitate to comment, criticize, give your opinion, good or bad.  
> I'm back in the Fenders' world! Yeaaaah!

Anders was staring again, he was aware of it. He couldn't help it, his gaze locked on the red band tied around Fenris' forearm as the elf raised a hand to shove his spoon full of stew in his mouth. The warrior nodded and Hawke burst into laughter, clapping Fenris' back as he threw his head back so he could let go of his evil laugh that echoed through the caves.

“If you intend to kill us all, Hawke, that's a great start!” Anders spat from the other side of the campfire. “Why don't you call our enemies and tell them where we are? We could even surrender, that would end the same way!”

“Hey there, Blondie.” Varric intervened, patting his shoulder with a soothing hand.

Hawke raised both his eyebrows and stood up, before bypassing the hearth so he could sit just next to Anders, dismissing Varric in a vague gesture of the hand, hand that came to rest on Anders' shoulder, as the rogue wrapped an arm around his healer. The apostate could feel Fenris' gaze from the other side of the fire and shifted uncomfortably, though not daring to push Hawke away.

“What's wrong, Anders?” Hawke asked, squeezing gently his shoulder. “We're safe here, we cleared the area. No giant spiders, no undead, no smugglers, no slavers. I'll take first watch, if that is to reassure you.”

“I'm not afraid.” Anders replied, looking away.

He was just so jealous it made him sick. He looked up over the campfire to meet green pupils, that were staring at him with no shame but with deep suspicion. 'You have no reason to be jealous' Anders thought. 'Hawke is yours, and has always been.' He pouted at this thought and drew away from Hawke's touch.

“You just know how I hate being trapped in some dark smelly place who happens to have very narrow corridors and low ceiling.”

“It's been only two days, Anders. You spent far more time in the Deep Roads last year.”

“Well maybe last year I'd had enough of it for a lifetime. I'll take first watch, I'm not tired. Go to sleep.”

Hawke caught the hint: the talk was over. He sighed and stood up, retrieving Anders' bowl of stew left untouched and tossing its contents in the flames. They all unrolled their bedrolls and Anders huffed when Hawke put his near Fenris'.

He waited for them all to fall asleep, still sitting near the fire, feeling the flames warm his body. It was cold in the caves, and the air was humid. Anders curled up, knees rising to his chest and arms wrapped around his legs. He was focused on every sound he could hear reverberating through the corridors. A drop of water crashing on the floor, the creak of the fire, the light snores of Varric sleeping nearby. He didn't move until his watch was over, finally stretching when he felt the first symptoms of fatigue hit him. He cracked his knuckles, and then his back, stretching his arms above his head. Now was the time to choose who was going to take the next watch. Waking the I-can-rip-your-heart-out-of-your-ribcage elf up was out of the question. Hawke would surely ask Anders to keep him company a while and the mage would end up with heavy bags under his eyes in the morning. That left Varric, though Anders knew Varric hated the watches. He couldn't suffer the silence, the loneliness and the boredom. Anders would likely end up staying awake with him just like with Hawke even though he wouldn't ask. And he really needed sleep. The elf it would be, then.

He approached slowly Fenris' bedroll and squatted next to the warrior, careful not to toe on the greatsword lying next to him.

“I suggest you pick someone else, mage. I have every intention on sleeping a few hours tonight.”

“You're not sleeping? Why aren't you sleeping?”

Fenris suddenly sat up and Anders jerked away at the sudden move, falling backwards on his buttocks and hands, directly on the greatsword. He let go of a yelp as the blade dug into his palm, breaking through the skin so easily Anders guessed the elf was sharpening it every fucking day. He rose up on his feet, wiping his bloody hand on his coat.

“I'm definitely declaring it's your watch now.” Anders said as he made his way to his own bedroll, settling in it with a sigh of relief.

“You will pay for that.” the elf replied but the mage ignored him.

The elf definitely wanted revenge. In the morning, he woke up the mage by spilling the contents of his waterskin all over his face. Anders' eyes shot open and he sat up quickly, looking up at Fenris who actually _smirked_.

“Wake up, mage. It is time we leave.”

Immediately, Anders reached for his own waterskin and the elf's eyes widened before he fled, turning quickly on his heels to run away. Anders rose up on his feet and began running after him.

“I'll show you why mages are feared!” he screamed, his voice betraying his amusement.

And he could swear, on Ser Pounce-a-lot's whiskers, that when Fenris glanced over his shoulder, he was actually _smiling_. Not the genuine little smile he reserved for Hawke, nor the mocking smirk he kept for the apostate, but a true wide grin that split open his face. That made Anders stop immediately, his waterskin still in his raised hand, eyes widened and heart beating faster. Andraste's knickerweasels, the effect it had on him.

“Blondie?”

Varric raised an eyebrow, eying the corridor where the barefoot elf just disappeared.

“Were you not chasing Fenris?”

“Hmm? Ah, yes.”

Anders started running again, following the elf at a quickened pace. He soon found himself alone in the dark corridors, wandering in the caves, taking this or that path, searching for his prey. He stopped to listen, but knew that the barefoot elf wouldn't make a noise, while himself was left panting after his race.

“Where are you, sneaky bastard!” he called out, brandishing his waterskin like a weapon.

He couldn't see anything and his hand never left the stone on his left so he could maneuver through the corridors. Suddenly, he heard a sound nearby and froze, holding his breath. It was too late. His waterskin was stolen and its contents poured in the back of his neck, the water running down his spine, soaking his shirt and calling shivers from the mage. He squeaked loudly but his arm instinctively stretched out as he grabbed a hold of… what was that? and pulled violently to prevent the prey from escaping. The elf literally crushed on Anders and they both fell to the floor, the mage ending up on his back while Fenris landed on him. The stone hit Anders' head and an elbow sank into his ribs but Anders didn't let go of a single whimper despite the pain. Once the shock passed, he realized what was happening. They were lying on the floor, the elf on top of him, his soft hair tickling Anders' chin while his head rested on the mage's chest. He was heavier than he looked and Anders could feel the comfortable weigh and warmth of the warrior's body against his, their tangled legs and… Nope. Definitely not enjoying this. Definitely not thinking of _this_ now.

He wondered why the elf had not moved yet. Ten seconds had passed and they were both motionless. Maybe Fenris was injured.

“Fenris? Are you all right?”

Finally, the elf moved and it almost drew a moan out of Anders' throat as a thigh brushed his crotch. But the mage controlled himself, staying still as the elf was rolling on the side.

“Are you hurt?” Anders asked again.

“I am fine, mage” Fenris answered.

Anders felt him rising up to his feet and sat up, but his head was fuzzy and he groaned. He sent a wave of healing magic through his skull and suddenly, the cave went blue. Fenris' markings reacted to Anders' magic and lit up slowly, a path of blue light running down the elf's lanky body. Anders was mesmerized by the sight of it and couldn't look away, as the tattoos slowly flared to life. His heart missed a beat.

“Are you done healing yourself?” Fenris asked, crossing his arms.

Anders' skull was healed for a few seconds now but the flux of healing magic won't stop pouring out of his hands. Not if it meant being swallowed by the dark again. Finally, he dropped his hand and nodded. But Fenris' markings kept glowing faintly and Anders was hearing the lyrium song, feeling it tickle his skin. A few seconds passed by and Fenris sighed, before holding out his hand, proposing his help. Anders didn't hesitate a second, drawn by both the sight of the handsome elf and the need to touch his lyrium-branded skin. The warrior grasped the healer's fingers and pulled more violently than necessary, re-opening the cut on Anders' palm.

“Outch!” Anders said, looking down at his hand in the elf's.

Fenris let go of Anders and both mage and spirit sighed in disappointment. The apostate looked down at his bleeding hand and a new wave of magic was pushed into his body.

“Are you done using magic?” Fenris asked through gritted teeth. “How is it that you always have a cut or a bruise somewhere? You have the safest spot on the battlefield and yet you always end up wounded.”

“Says the reckless elf who doesn't hesitate to run through a blade just to crush a heart.”

“That happened just once, and that little blade wasn't even sharp.”

“Sharp enough to be stuck in your guts.”

Fenris was about to respond but they heard Hawke's voice not far.

“We're leaving! If you're having a good and quick fuck in the shadows, I don't want to know… well I do, but please finish already!”

“Coming, Hawke!” the elf shouted, turning on his heels to join their companions.

Anders retrieved his empty waterskin from the floor before following Fenris, following the light. They entered the big cave they had settled in and both Varric's and Hawke's gaze locked on them.

“Why is Fenris glowing?” Hawke asked, wary.

“It's dark there.” Anders simply said as he rolled his bedroll and took his staff and his bag.

“And what were you doing in a dark corner… together?”

“You said so, Hawke.” Fenris answered. “It was a good location for a quick fuck.”

Anders' breath caught in his throat and he coughed, almost dropping his staff.

“I really want to believe you, Fenris. But none of you seem to have had a good time.” Hawke replied with a disappointed look on his face.

“We should move on.” Fenris finally said, his greatsword in hand.


	2. "I can grow a beard"

It had been days now Anders hadn't left the clinic. Lirene was providing him food and supplies, bought with the few coins Anders had earned by accompanying Hawke in the caves a week ago. The reward had been disappointing. They had been hired to find something the employer lost and he had been cheapskate when he retrieved what Hawke and his party had found only after four days in the caves. Surely they deserved more. However, Anders did notice that Hawke had not fairly shared the treasure. He gave Varric and Fenris the same amount of coin, though he kept little for himself and offered Anders a lot more than his fair part. The mage was about to protest but Hawke had glowered at him, with his 'don't-you-dare-to-contest-my-decisions look. So he had accepted it, thankful, and was now happy as he had enough elfroot to make healing potions for his patients.

“There he is, my favorite healer!” Hawke exclaimed while entering the clinic.

Fenris growled and folded his arms, looking away as Anders met the party with a wide grin. Hawked hugged briefly Anders and the apostate saw the elf behind, looking daggers at them.

“Hawke! It's been a while. Isabela! How is your… little problem?”

“Solved, thanks to you!”

“Fenris.” Anders finished greeting his hosts, his voice neutral.

He was good at hiding. Except during Wicked Grace nights. No one would ever notice that his heart just fluttered at the sight of the elf, like a fucking dragonfly.

“Mage.”

“We haven't seen you in a while. We're missing you.” Hawke complained.

“Not all of us do.” the elf grumbled.

Anders just ignored him.

“Problems at the bone pit. The ceiling collapsed.” Anders explained.

“Again?” Hawke asked, his brow furrowing above his amber eyes.

Anders shrugged.

“I've already healed the workers” he said as he showed the clinic, almost empty. “Why are you here? Another job?”

“Now now, Anders, I'm just visiting a friend! Actually I'm just here to remind you tonight is Wicked Grace night. Will you come?”

“I would never miss it.”

This game was a great excuse to look at the elf, pretending to try to decipher his expression while Anders was just staring at his profile, his white hair falling on his eyes, his pretty elven nose and his pretty mouth.

“Great! Then come!” Isabela ordered, clapping her hands together.

“Now? Isn't it a bit early?”

Fenris rolled his eyes and pointed at the window with a gauntleted finger.

“It is night already.” he commented with a snarl. “We're late.”

Anders frowned but nodded, before telling his last patients he would see them the next morning, making sure these were not emergencies. He extinguished the lantern at his doorstep, took his staff, his almost empty purse and they all left the clinic.

“Why are they here?” Anders asked, gesturing towards Fenris and Isabela who walked ahead while Anders was locking the door, Hawke waiting for him.

“Fenris came by earlier, saying you'd probably forgotten Wicked Grace night and suggesting to visit you. We came across Isabela on the way here.”

“Fenris… did that?”

Anders blinked, twice, still looking at the elf not far. Hawke nodded and grabbed his hand so they would follow their companions. They caught them ahead and Fenris' look lowered until it locked on Hawke's and Anders' joined hands. Before Anders could react, a gauntleted hand separated their fingers and Fenris took place between Hawke and Anders. The apostate could clearly hear Hawke's annoyed sigh, though no one dared any comment as they made their way through Darktown.

When they reached the Hanged Man, everyone was there, already drinking and playing cards around the big round table.

“You're late!” Varric commented. “Go fetch your drinks yourself.”

“I have this.” Fenris said before quickly leaving the room.

Surely he would take his own bottle of wine and Hawke's tankard and that was all. Isabela seemingly agreed with Anders as she pouted, ready to follow the elf. Anders caught her by the arm.

“A big tumbler of strong mead for you” he said, winking at her and she nodded expectantly.

Anders walked down the stairs and entered the main room, following Fenris to the bar. He ordered and waited for Corff to prepare the drinks, next to Fenris. His gaze fell to the elf's arm, where the red band stayed firmly tied. He itched to reach it and untie it and throw it to the floor and step on it with his scruffy boots and burn it and let dogs poop on the ashes and…

“Mage?”

“Hmm?” Anders looked up at the elf.

“The drinks.” Fenris just said, pointing at the glasses on the counter.

Anders left a few coins and took the drinks before heading back to Varric's room, followed by Fenris. He handed Isabela her glass of mead and sat next to her, as the only other vacant seat was next to Hawke – and surely Anders wouldn't _steal_ Fenris rightful seat next to his former lover.

“So, Blondie? How do you plan on playing tonight?”

Anders lifted his purse and shook it so the coins inside were ringing.

“Tonight, I'm keeping my clothes on.” he said as he sipped his alcohol-free drink.

“What a shame!” Hawke exclaimed, a disappointed look on his face.

Anders didn't miss Fenris' frown and cleared his throat. After all, it was not _his_ fault Hawke was always so… flirty. He wouldn't pretend he never flirted back, but that was just a game, it wasn't serious. Anders had understood that since the beginning, or he would have fallen for the man easily. Instead, he fell for the mage-hating elf who wanted him dead or, worse, locked up in the Gallows. He should have seen it coming. The moment the elf had walked down this fucking staircase, blood on his gauntlets, lyrium-markings singing in the air, and talking with that fucking deep voice that…

“Blondie?”

Anders shook his head and tossed a silver coin at the center of the table. It wasn't love at first sight, far from it. The elf was infuriating enough that Anders felt only annoyance near him at the beginning. But as he came to know him, he came to respect him. They were alike in many ways, whether the elf admitted it or not. As time was passing by, Anders caught himself watching the elf, searching for the smirks – how rare they were! – the frowns – had plenty of them! – and, his favorite, the lifted eyebrow. The elf was full of pride, though he always thanked Anders when the mage would heal him or give him potions. He even apologized once when he knew he went too far on one of their bickering, mentioning Karl. He even protected him on the battlefield, always asking him at the end of a fight if he was wounded, as though he actually _cared_. And as Anders slowly but surely fell in love with an elf who despised him, said elf was responding to Hawke's flirting and then shared his bed.

“What's it with you tonight, Blondie? You're lost in your thoughts.”

“Are you all right, mage?”

Anders looked up to meet green eyes and his heart clenched in his chest.

“I am.”

Anders lost a few coins to the elf, but mostly to Isabela, though he clearly saw her hiding cards in her cleavage. When she realized he was staring, she winked at him and put a finger on her lips. He kept silent because he knew she would give him his coin back. The time came when Aveline left, every one else was drunk and Anders was down to his pants. Of course he ended up taking off his clothes. He _never_ had enough coin to last the evening. Though he was not the only one who'd lost a few clothes. Isabela had removed her boots after she declared 'All-in' against Fenris, certain he was totally bluffing and she was totally wrong. Hawke had lost only the shirt, but that just happened because 'it's unbearably warm in here'. Merrill was doing well, losing some coin, but always wining it back at some point, though Isabela helped her _a lot_. Varric, has for him, had declared the war on the elf, as they were equally talented at Wicked Grace.

“Maker's breath! It's _so_ warm in here!”

“You're shirtless, Hawke.” Anders stated.

“I know. It must be my magnificent beard! Look at Varric. He never closes his shirt, because his chest hair keeps him warm.”

“Yeah, your beard must have a mysterious power such as keeping you warm, Hawke. It's certainly not because of the alcohol.”

“You complain your clinic is cold, Anders. You should grow a beard. Though you're pretty handsome with that stubble.”

“Yeah, think of how handsome I would be with your beard, Hawke. How would you resist me?” the mage teased, winking at Hawke.

Then he noticed the elf's glare and anger rose in his chest. After all, it was Fenris who left Hawke, and kept breaking Anders' heart every fucking day.

“What? You're jealous because you can't grow a beard?”

“ _I_ don't need a beard to be handsome.”

“True!” Hawke said.

“Then who is more attractive, Hawke?” Isabela asked with a giggle. “The lanky elf or the wanton mage?”

“Wanton?” Fenris huffed.

“Well, he surely was wanton at the time, right sparklefingers?” Isabela winked at him.

The elf grumbled, folding his arms.

“I have pretty eyes.” he said.

Anders untied his hair and shook his head so that the golden strands would fall before his eyes.

“I have pretty hair.”

“I'm lanky.”

“I'm tall.”

“I'm brawny.”

“I can grow a beard.”

There it was! Fenris smirked! He actually smirked and Anders' fucking heart just missed a beat.

“Hawke? What's your choice?” Isabela asked.

As they all turned to look at the leader of the group, they all realized how pale he was.

“Out, Hawke! Out!” Anders yelled, reacting quicker than the others, dragging Hawke outside the room and the hall until they reached the exit and felt the cold air tickle their bare skin. Anders led his friend around the corner so he won't throw up on the doorstep. Immediately, Hawke emptied his stomach of its contents behind a barrel. Anders laid a soothing hand on his back, shivering in the cold as he remembered he had just his pants left on. He was careful not to step on a dead rat, a puddle of vomit, or a shard of glass.

Hawke finally straightened up and let go of a shaky breath.

“Here. Feeling better?” Anders asked, his hand rubbing Hawke's back.

Hawke nodded, stumbling a little. Anders smiled at him and Hawke tilted his head, before he stepped closer, and then crushed their lips together. Anders was too stunned to draw away, keeping his arm wrapped around the rogue. He didn't have the heart to reject a drunk Hawke even though he smelled like ale, sweat and vomit. Though his lips were soft and warm against Anders' as he moved them slowly, giving him a chaste and innocent kiss. It was a long time since the mage had been kissed and it felt good, though if he had had to choose a moment and a person, it wouldn't be in Lowtown, near a puddle of vomit, with a drunk Hawke. Finally, Hawke drew away, his eyes still closed, and the mage smiled fondly. Even if he wasn't in love with the man, he could clearly say he would have liked trying some little things in bed, if he was the Anders of old times. But he wasn't.

He put Hawke's arm on his shoulders to steady him, ready to lead him inside as they turned to return to the Hanged Man. And then Anders saw the elf, standing in the corner of the wall, watching, arms folded, his face unreadable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And you, who would you choose between Fenris and Anders? Wait, don't answer. I already know your answer.  
> I hope you liked this chapter, the next one will come soon, it's already written.  
> Thank you for reading, I'm glad to share this story with you.


	3. "Let's see who wins first"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked that chapter.  
> Isabela is perspicacious. Or maybe Anders' jealousy is just that much obvious. I guess it's the second option.  
> Thank you for reading, and thank you for the kudos, I'm just smiling like an idiot because of your comments, and your kudos and you're just lovely and here, cookies for everyone!

“Anders, you ought to clean our clothes.” Varric said seriously.

They all looked daggers at him. They encountered some smugglers on the Wounded Coast and, well, the fight had been a mess. First, Anders did just well, as usual, casting Winter's grasp here, a rejuvenation spell there. But then a tall and brawny smuggler, with an impressive high kick, hit Fenris in the stomach, and the elf was thrown across the battlefield, dropping his sword. He was helpless, as three foes rushed toward him. They, however, never reached him, as Anders cast a powerful yet dangerous spell, making them explode in the middle of the fight. All of them.

Anders was left panting and sweating, exhausted, emptied of the last drop of mana he once possessed. They were all covered in blood and guts and goo. Fenris was trying to get rid of some sort of sticky filament lost in his now red hair while Varric was wiping the goo off his chest hair. Hawke, as for him, was grinning wildly, and Isabela was already looting what was left of the corpses.

“How did you do that, Anders?” Hawke asked.

“Well, it's a spell I learned from Justice. He used it against the templars when we merged.” Anders explained, still panting.

“Why don't you use that more often?”

“It's very dangerous. We could have exploded with them.”

“And you used it?” Fenris retorted, half-angry, half-impressed.

“I was focused.” he just said, shrugging. “This way is the sea.” he informed his friends, pointing at the direction of the coast. “And I know for sure that this way there's a pond.”

“All right. The sea first so that we clean, and then the pond so we can drink clear water.” Hawke decided.

They headed to the beach, the sun high in the sky above them. Anders was sweating under his heavy coat soaked with thick blood, still exhausted. He felt the goo drying on his skin and he itched to reach the sea. They finally got there with a relieved sigh. They all began to strip, separating the clothes that needed to be washed and those that had been spared by the explosion of guts and blood. Anders was unstrapping the buckles of his coat after removing the belt, though his stare was locked on Fenris, who'd already lost the breastplate and the gauntlets and was beginning to remove his sleeveless tunic. Lyrium tattoos appeared on tanned skin, in intricate patterns that had the mage's gaze follow every possible path on the elf's muscled torso.

“Do you need help, mage?”

Anders, startled, looked up, realizing Fenris was perfectly aware of the healer's stare on his body.

“You've been on this clasp for a while now.” Fenris commented, not bothering to hide his amusement, totally _mocking_ the mage.

Anders had a smart retort ready in his mind, but it died in his throat when the shirtless elf joined him in two quick steps, his fingers unstrapping the buckles of Anders' coat, his face a few inches away from the apostate's. When he was done, he quickly walked away, to help Hawke removing his own big armor.

Anders tossed his coat away, still shivering from the previous proximity he shared with the elf. The mage was lucky it was long enough to cover half of his pants, while the other half was protected by the boots, so only the coat needed cleaning. He, however, was still covered in goo, his face, his hair, his hands were bloody and sticky. He continued stripping and was halfway there when something caught his eye. Isabela, fully naked, was slowly walking towards the water, her hips swaying at each step. Anders was drawn by the sight of them and huffed appreciatively.

Anders heard a deep growl behind him and jumped, before turning on his heels to discover a grumpy elf who, arms folded, was looking daggers at Isabela. Anders chuckled.

“She really isn't ashamed of anything. Though she has nothing to be ashamed of.” he added with an appreciative look.

Fenris huffed and Anders finished stripping, ending down to his smalls, blushing as he was aware of the elf's presence by his side, who had not removed his bloody pants. Finally, Anders grabbed his coat and joined Isabela and Hawke, who were already trying to clean their clothes. Anders rubbed his coat as well until he got rid of the pieces of internal organs and muscles. Then he laid it on the sand to let the sun dry it, next to his friends' clothes. He returned in the water so he would finally clean himself. Fenris was rubbing Hawke's hair and at the sight of the two shirtless men, former lovers, so close to each others, Anders felt his heart clench in his chest.

“Ow, you're jealous?” Isabela peeped, appearing by his side, the water hiding half of her breast. “I can help you!” she added and it seemed her last words held a hidden meaning Anders wasn't able to catch yet.

She began to fondle him, under the excuse of cleaning him, her naked body leaning against Anders. The mage smirked. It was _so_ Isabela that he didn't push her away as she stroked his face, his neck and his torso. He looked down at the blurred silhouette of Isabela's body under the water. Any man would have been aroused, but not Anders. Isabela was a friend, and even if she was indeed a beautiful creature, he had ceased to see her like a potential good fuck at the Black Pearl.

“I believe he is clean enough.”

Anders looked up and discovered the elf, standing two feet away, fists on his hips. His hand suddenly surged forward and he grabbed Isabela's wrist before her fingers reached some lower part of Anders' anatomy.

Isabela winked at Anders and drew away, joining Hawke. Fenris was still standing in front of Anders and the apostate was trying to look anywhere but at the bare torso, at the white hair, the green eyes. Fail. He was staring again. And Fenris was staring back.

“Hem, I think she misses my old little trick. I was quite the legend. I mean I wasn't paid or anything, don't get me wrong. Even if it was a brothel. They let me stay for a while and I felt grateful. Not that they obliged me to… satisfy the clients. I wanted to. I was a bit… libertine. With Isabela, we spent quite the night.”

Anders was talking and talking and the more he talked, the more Fenris' frown deepened. But he couldn't stop babbling.

“I won't admit in front of her that I will never forget that first night, because she wouldn't stop harassing me so that we give it another try and, well, I'm not the man I used to be. Not anymore. I changed. I don't mean I don't wish to have a good fuck from time to time, though Justice wouldn't allow it, I just mean that I would choose the person wisely. You know, the good partner. I mean, I can't actually think of sleeping with someone without loving this person. Not anymore. So I won't sleep with Isabela again. I'd choose someone else.”

“Who?” Fenris finally interrupted, folding his arms again.

“Hmm?” was all Anders could articulate while his eyes were inevitably attracted by the strong arms crossed on a strong torso, making the shoulders look even stronger and…

“Hawke?” Fenris asked, glancing at the Champion.

“I… this is not what it looked like.”

“You kissed him.”

“ _He_ kissed _me_! I swear.”

“And you let him.”

“I… Yes. But...”

Fenris didn't let him finish. He turned on his heels and left the mage, shaking his head. Anders let go of a tired sigh. The previous spell left him exhausted and tiredness seemed to suddenly crush over him in a strong wave. He reached the beach and retrieved his shirt and pants, dressing up, before lying on the sand, closing his eyes and enjoying the warmth of the sun.

He heard someone lying beside him and smiled.

“I don't heal sunburns,” he warned without opening his eyes.

“You should be the one fearing sunburns, with your pale skin.” a low grumble answered him.

Anders' eyes shot open and he turned his head to see the elf, lying a few feet away, an arm behind his head, eyes closed. He was about to smile when he noticed the other silhouette lying on the sand, close to Fenris. Hawke. He pouted and turned away, looking at his other side. Isabela was staring at him, a wide grin on her lips. She suddenly deleted the distance between her and the mage, leaning against him – fortunately, she had dressed up, though the soaked fabric was more slinky than usual and her skin was glistering in the sun – so she could whisper in his ear.

“I said I'd help you. And I will.”

“What are you talking about?” Anders said, his voice just a murmur.

“You have a crush.”

“I don't!” he exclaimed louder than he intended to.

“Come on, sweetheart, you're in love!” she whispered in his ear. “You're all glowering and sulking in a corner when they're together.”

“What is this about?” a silky voice interrupted them.

Anders looked up and saw the elf standing beside him, his features distorted by anger. He bent, grabbed Anders' wrist and pulled until the mage was on his feet, and led him away.

“Fenris, what are you doing?”

Once the elf decided they were far enough, he faced the apostate, though his hand was still wrapped around Anders' wrist and the mage could feel the lyrium brands tickle his skin.

“I had no idea you were so… flighty. Do you intend to break Hawke's heart?”

“Last one I checked, you were the one breaking his heart.”

Fenris' anger turned into sadness. He was hurt, and Anders bit his lip, wanting to take back the words.

“I had my reasons. And Hawke understands. Do you truly love Hawke?” Fenris asked, tilting his head.

And beyond the question, Anders could easily see how deep it hurt the elf to even consider it. The mage pondered. He was aware his jealousy was noticeable. If he denied loving Hawke, surely the last possible option for such jealousy was that he loved the elf. And he'd die before anyone would discover that. So he didn't deny.

“That's none of your business. What is happening between Hawke and me does not concern you anymore.”

Fenris seemed so sad Anders could feel his chest tightening. The elf let go of his wrist. And then Anders noticed Hawke and Isabela behind Fenris, listening. Hawke seemed surprised and bemused, and Isabela shook her head with a what-have-you-done look on her face. Shit. How did he get into this?

“We came to be sure he was not going to kill you. We'll let you talk.” Hawke said, literally dragging Isabela as she resisted his strong grip.

“No, look, they might fight, we must stay! Come on Hawke, it started to become interesting!” her voice was weakening as they walked away.

Anders ran a hand through his hair. He'd removed the tie to wash them and the blond strands were falling before his eyes.

“Look, Fenris, I...”

“You are right, mage. I am in no right to question you. However, be aware that I will not give up so easily.”

“So you'll keep glaring and growling? Is it how you woo someone?”

“I have no intention to woo anyone” Fenris retorted with a snarl.

“Jealous Fenris is pretty hot, though.” Anders teased with a smirk.

Fenris' eyebrows raised, disappearing under his bangs.

“And jealous Anders is pretty pathetic.”

Anders pouted and folded his arms, muttering under his breath. And there it was again, that infuriating smirk that curled the corner of the elf's lips and made Anders' heart beat faster. Suddenly Fenris lifted a hand, and his fingers gently caught a strand of golden air and tucked it behind Anders' ear, before he stepped closer.

“Let's see who wins first.” he whispered in a defiant tone, before leaving the mage here, stunned.


	4. "He's totally stupid"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, for the kudos, for the comments, for your kindess, and your cuteness, and I want to hug you and innocently kiss you and give you plenty of Fenders.  
> Just so you know, I have an idea for a new Fenders fiction. Again.  
> It never stops.

Once their clothes were finally dry, they left the beach, heading to the pond. They surely were thirsty! Anders, still exhausted, was walking feet away behind his companions, leaning on his staff at each step. Maker, that last spell stole all his strength and vigor.

He frowned when Hawke wrapped an arm around Fenris' shoulders. The mage noticed that sidelong look Fenris cast over his shoulder, though the elf didn't look victorious, but _embarrassed_. Anders wondered what it meant, but kept staring at that arm drawing Fenris closer to Hawke.

“Hmm, love always hurts.”

Isabela had appeared by his side and was staring at the two men ahead. Fenris finally slipped out of Hawke's grasp, only to gently push him with his shoulder. It was sickening.

“Why did you fall in love, you fool? You could have kept going like the old times. Flirt, fuck, but not _love_. Look at you now, poor thing.”

“I know. I'm pathetic.”

“The three of you are pathetic, really.”

“I'm the most pathetic.” Anders sighed. “Hawke loves Fenris, Fenris loves Hawke. I am not to get involved. I still wonder why they have to make it so complicated.”

Isabela turned her head slowly, eyed Anders as they both stopped walking.

“Are you completely stupid?” she asked in an innocent voice.

She tilted her head, examining Anders as if he was an odd relic found in Xenon's place.

“How… How does it work in that little head of yours?” she continued. “I always knew I was the smart one. You should read my last friend fiction, it might inspire you.”

“Everyone fucks in your story. I don't see how it'd help with _love_.”

Isabela burst into laughter and Fenris turned around, watching them with narrowed eyes, before he dropped his shoulders. Hawke patted him on the back and Anders felt a wave of jealousy crushing his heart. They looked so close.

“Do you have any idea of why Fenris left that night? Why he broke Hawke's heart?”

Anders ignored Isabela, still glaring at Hawke who handed Fenris an apple. The elf loved apples.

“Maker, why did I promise not to tell anything?” she complained.

“Since when do you keep your promises?”

“I always have. It's not because I cheat at cards that I'm not trustworthy.”

“Is this going anywhere?”

“All right, I said I'd help you and I meant it. Prepare yourself, I have a plan.”

Last thing Anders needed was Isabela trying to matchmake him with Hawke. It would only make the elf angrier. And, well, she had no idea the warrior was Anders' real target.

“Isabela. Leave it be!”

“Are you not going to fight? Is this all he means for you?”

Anders watched the elf, who was now far ahead of them, and sighed.

“He is never going to love me.”

“How little you know, sweetheart.” Isabela said before she ran to their friends.

Once they quenched their thirst at the little pond, they finally headed to the Qunari camp. They had to clear the Wounded Coast of all the Tal-Vashoths at the demand of the Arishok. They slaughtered the Qunaris one by one, Anders casting spells from behind a bush, and his three companions dancing on the battlefield, their blades running through the air. There were only five Tal-Vashoths left. Fenris, Isabela and Hawke fought three of them. And of course the two of them left were turning their attention on Anders. As the mage cast Winter's grasp on the first, the second had had enough time to throw his spear, that Anders dodged immediately, not without a proud grin. However, as he dodged the first spear, he didn't noticed that the first Qunari was half free of the ice and was already throwing his own spear, that cut the air to finally run through Anders' torso. Anders fell to his knees, then onto his side, behind the bush. He closed his eyes. Had he forgotten how to breathe? It seemed the air wouldn't fill his lungs, no matter how hard he tried.

“It seems we are victorious.” Fenris said. “Mage, are you all right? Mage? Where is the mage?”

Anders gathered all his strength to rise a hand above the bush and wave. His companions immediately converged to him.

“Fasta Vass!”

“Anders, can you hear me?” Hawke asked.

Anders nodded, though he didn't open his eyes. He needed to focus on how to breathe.

“Mage? Can you heal yourself?”

'Not with that spear through my internal organs you twat.' he thought. Though the very idea of having the spear removed made him shiver. For now, he only clung to life because of the spear. Once it out of his body, he would bleed to death. However, he had no choice. He called for his mana, checking how much he had left. He just hoped he would not pass out before he could heal himself.

“Remove the spear” he whispered in a shaky breath.

“Am I the only one thinking what he just said is totally dirty?” Isabela asked.

“All right. Fenris, hold him.” Hawke ordered, ignoring Isabela.

The elf laid strong arms on his body, grasping his shoulder and hip to push him to the ground. Anders heard Hawke kneel behind him, ready to pull the spear. And a few seconds later, a wave of pain was crushing Anders' whole body, making him cry out. It felt endless and Anders almost wished he was dead.

“It's done! Mage! Heal yourself.”

But Anders' head was fuzzy, and his limbs were heavy. He felt himself being pulled against someone's breastplate, an armored arm wrapped around his shoulders and a gauntleted hand pressuring his bleeding wound, as his head rested on a spiky shoulder. It suddenly smelled like leather and lyrium. He liked that smell.

“Mage! Anders! Heal yourself!”

The voice was deep, soft and growling at the same time and Anders fought the darkness so he could hear that voice a little longer.

“Do we have a lyrium potion? Maybe he lacks of mana.”

Slowly, very slowly, Anders was clinging to reality. The pain increased, but his mind was less foggy. And then he understood what he was supposed to do. His fingers came to rest on the hand that was pressuring his wound and he released his magic. He heard a hiss near his ear, and suddenly felt the touch of lyrium on his injury. Justice, weakened, seemed to wake up. The magic faded and Anders realized he had not enough mana to heal himself completely. However, his internal organs were now intact, only remained the two wounds on his stomach and back, and that still hurt like hell.

“Is he done? Why doesn't he open his eyes?”

The gauntleted hand pushed Anders' fingers out of the way and examined his injury.

“It is still open, though it doesn't seem too deep. He will survive.”

“Disappointed?” Anders asked in a hoarse voice, opening his eyes.

He heard Hawke's relieved sigh, Isabela's little chuckle and saw the elf's little smile. Fenris was looking at him, his emerald eyes just a few inches from Anders' amber ones, and he actually seemed _happy_.

“Maker” Anders muttered as his heart fluttered in his chest.

He looked away, turning his head so he didn't have to bear the sight of such a gorgeous elf that would never be his. He felt a spike digging into his scalp and immediately drew away with a pained groan. The arm around his shoulders disappeared and he felt the body he was leaning against getting away.

“Wait!” he shouted, his hands catching the breastplate to prevent any other movement from the elf. “I mean...”

Anders cleared his throat, not daring to look at the elf.

“What, mage?”

But before he could answer, fingers slid behind his knees, a gauntleted hand grasped his so he would wrap his arm around strong shoulders, and he was lifted in the air easily. Fenris' scent was replaced by Hawke's as the rogue tightened his grip on his healer.

“Don't do that again, Anders. _Ever_.” Hawke mumbled.

Over Hawke's shoulder, Anders watched Fenris. Kneeling on the ground, the elf lowered his head as his shoulders dropped.

The party left the Tal-Vashoths' compound as the sun was lowering in the sky, Hawke still holding Anders firmly against his chest. Isabela and Fenris were walking a few feet behind, and in the silence of the evening, Anders could hear them talking.

“Come on, sweetheart, stop brooding.”

“I'm not brooding.”

“No, of course not. Don't worry, Hawke is just helping his friend, don't see too much into it.”

“He's not just carrying him! He's... hugging him.”

Anders sighed, deciding he didn't want to hear more.

“Where are you taking me, Hawke?” he asked, wondering why they had not stopped to settle camp yet.

“Home.”

“Sorry?”

“We're heading back to Kirkwall.”

“But the night's falling! And I'm injured. It's too dangerous. Hawke, we should camp here. I'll soon have regained my mana. I will be able to heal myself completely in the morning.”

“You're not sleeping on the sand, in the cold, in that state. I'll get you home. We'll be there in a few hours. You may sleep if you're tired.”

“You're not going to carry me all along, are you?”

“Why not? You're not really heavy, you know. And I am strong.”

“What if we come across enemies? How will you draw your sword?”

“Worry not, mage. I will protect him.”

Anders glanced over Hawke's shoulder to look at Fenris, raising an eyebrow.

“And you.” the elf added, his gaze locked on the mage.

“How does it work?” Isabela suddenly asked as she stared at the giant gem at the end of Anders' staff, tapping it, scratching it.

“Hey! Don't touch!” Anders exclaimed, struggling against Hawke's grip and stretching the arm that was wrapped around Hawke's shoulder to reach his staff.

Isabela kept it out of reach, examining it, playing skillfully with it. Until Fenris, in a loud growl, took it from her. Isabela, stunned, stared at Fenris with wide eyes. Fenris was holding a _staff_. Something that was related to _magic_. And he carried it all the way through the Wounded Coast, not letting Isabela touch it again.

As time was passing by, Anders, exhausted, was slowly sinking into the Fade, sleep claiming him. He had closed his eyes for a while and was breathing slowly, his head resting on Hawke's shoulder.

“Have you told him?” Hawke whispered and Anders frowned, not wanting to talk now.

“I'd rather we didn't talk about it.” Fenris answered. “The pirate is listening.”

“I am not!” Isabela retorted and Fenris huffed, half amused, half annoyed.

“I've told her, Fenris.”

“You've what?!”

“Shh. Anders is sleeping.”

He was not. Not completely. He was hearing, that for sure, but he felt himself drifting into sleep slowly and knew he would not remember any of this in the morning. Though he listened anyway.

“You had no right to tell her, Hawke!” Fenris exclaimed, though he whispered and didn't yell this time, so his anger was less discernible.

“What was I supposed to do? You left me heartbroken, half-naked, alone in my room, in the middle of the night. I went to the Hanged Man to drink and… well, Isabela was there and I… I just needed someone to speak with. And she listened.”

“That I did, sweetheart. It was a pleasure.”

“I'm sorry, Hawke.” Fenris apologized, his voice thick with remorse.

“It's okay, Fenris. I forgave you a long time ago. So maybe it is time you remove that red band. Why do you still wear it anyway?”

“It just reminds me of how fragile love is sometimes. And how strong mine is.”

“I doubt he understands that.” Hawke commented.

“He's totally stupid!” Isabela confirmed with a sigh.

Silence fell and Anders finally fell asleep in Hawke's arms, only awakening for a few seconds when he was laid on a very comfortable bed that he knew was not his.


	5. "Stop undressing me"

Anders woke up and stretched immediately, grunting when it raised a wave of pain in his body. He heard a disdainful snarl nearby and his eyes shot open. His head was perfectly clear and he knew who could make that infuriating noise. He tried to sit up but a weight on his chest prevented him to. He looked down and saw a lyrium-infused hand, that was attached to a frowning elf, who was sitting on the bed near Anders.

“Moving is surely a bad idea, mage. You're still wounded.” he said, pointing at the bandages around Anders' ribs.

His hand was still resting on Anders' naked torso and the apostate tried not to blush. He failed, as he felt the warmth spreading on his cheeks and neck.

“Where am I?” he asked, looking around.

“At Hawke's mansion. He left a few minutes ago to buy food.”

“Why are you here?”

“I… I didn't leave last night.”

The elf coughed a bit to hide his embarrassment and Anders gaped at him. It stirred in his chest. Was it the injury? He was pretty sure the spear didn't run through his ribcage. Then why did his heart actually _hurt_? He sighed and closed his eyes.

“Seems like you've won, Fenris.”

The warm hand left his torso and Anders felt Fenris stand, leaving the mattress.

“You don't know what you speak about, mage.” he simply blurt out, his voice weak.

“Doesn't matter.” Anders retorted, opening his eyelids again. “It's time I heal this. I'll use magic, so if you wish to leave the room...”

“May I remind you whose hand was beneath yours while you were healing yourself back there?” the elf spat, his voice now full of anger. “Did I complain?”

“Seems like you are complaining now.” Anders teased with a smile.

Fenris seemed startled by the mage's attitude and didn't reply. Anders rolled on his side, put a hand on his stomach and the other on his back, and called for his magic. He let go of a relieved sigh when the pain was gone, his skin renewed under the bandages. He finally sat up and stretched his arms above his head, letting go of a pleased whine.

“Here, drink.” the elf ordered, handing Anders a tumbler of water.

“Thank you.”

Anders drank. Silence fell. Thick. Heavy. Fenris sat again on the mattress, took the tumbler out of Anders' hand to put it on the bedside table. Anders watched him warily, as Fenris closed the distance between them, slowly, approaching his face, his gaze locked on Anders'.

“What...” Anders began.

“It was your fault again, mage.” Fenris interrupted him, stopping when his face was inches away from Anders'.

“What was my fault?”

“Do you have any idea of how I felt when he carried you in his arms?”

“I didn't _ask_ for him to!”

“It should have been me!”

“Well, if you wish, next time you're wounded I won't heal you so that Hawke would carry you home.”

“No, mage. It should have been _me_ , carrying _you_.”

“Gnh?”

Fenris smirked. Maker, he was mocking him _again_! Anders groaned and pushed the elf before slipping out of the bed.

“That's not funny.” he said, retrieving his bloody torn shirt left on a chair and putting it on, without bothering removing the now useless bandages around his ribs.

“Hawke left a shirt for you.”

And suddenly, there were a body behind him and hands on his hips, that lifted the fabric until Anders was shirtless again.

“Stop undressing me!” Anders barked.

His heart was hammering in his chest, his cheeks were blushing, and… well there surely was something happening _down there_.

“Why?” Fenris asked, his voice just a whisper. “Are you afraid you'd like it?”

Anders shivered.

“Stop playing with me!”

Fenris grasped Anders' wrist and the mage squeaked. Until he realized the elf was just helping him putting the new shirt on, pulling his arm through the sleeve. He finished getting dressed up alone, and then turned to face the elf.

“I have questions for you, mage, and I'd like you to be honest.”

“I will answer honestly or remain silent.”

Fenris nodded his agreement.

“Why did you kiss Hawke?”

Anders sighed and folded his arms, looking away.

“Fenris, it didn't mean anything. Hawke came by at my clinic the next morning. He wanted to get things straight: it meant nothing to him. He was drunk, and I am a handsome man – admit it, you grumpy elf – and it just happened. It meant nothing to him.”

“And what did it mean to _you_?”

“Does it matter?” Anders asked, tilting his head. “Hawke is… Hawke. He is attractive (Fenris frowned), he is smart (Fenris pouted), strong (Fenris grimaced) and he loves flirting (Fenris nodded). You won't be the first to be enticed and as long as you know Hawke loves you, you shouldn't be jealous. Least of me.”

“You didn't answer my question.” the elf stated. “What did that kiss mean to you?”

“Nothing!” Anders blurted out suddenly. “Happy?”

“Is this the truth? Can I trust you? You won't kiss him again?”

“I remind you that _he_ kissed me!”

Fenris stepped closer, narrowing his eyes.

“And you _liked_ it!” he growled.

“Of course I did! Who doesn't like to be kissed?”

And then the elf's lips crushed on Anders'. The apostate was sure the elf would draw away quickly, but instead Fenris started _moving_ his lips on Anders', and a hand came to _rest_ on Anders' back, drawing him closer. Anders was already lost in the kiss, enjoying the warmth of the elf's lips, their softness, as they stroked slowly, then sucked and Holy Maker, what were they doing?! 'I'm not supposed to kiss him back! I'm supposed to hate him. He will mock me later, he'll tease me with this. I'll never hear the end of it.' But Fenris' scent filled Anders' nose. Leather, lyrium, steel, a hint of wine. And he tasted just the same, Maker. He tasted so good. Anders' hands raised in the hair so they would bury themselves in the white soft hair. Anders' teeth teased Fenris' bottom lip, just before the mage sucked it in, and the elf groaned – Maker, that sound. It sent a shiver down Anders' spine and he feared he would grow hard just by kissing the elf in the middle of an argument. Finally, the elf drew away, not without a last brush of his lips against Anders'.

“Did you like it, mage?” Fenris asked, this infuriating condescending smirk on his pretty face again.

“Is this how you try to make a point?” Anders retorted, pushing the elf away and stepping back.

“Did I succeed?”

“Er… What was your point, anyway?”

“I proved you would kiss anyone, regardless of who they are and what you feel for them.” Fenris answered.

'You're not _anyone_!'

“So that kiss with Hawke might mean nothing after all.” Fenris finished, a satisfied smile stretching his lips.

“All this for just a kiss.”

They heard the door opening and Anders turned to see Hawke entering the room, a tray in his hands, full of food that smelled incredibly good.

“Anders, you're awake!”

And then Hawke stopped at the threshold, eyed Fenris, and coughed a bit.

“Am I… interrupting something?”

“No!” Anders exclaimed.

“Yes.” Fenris answered at the same time. “Doesn't matter.” he added after a sigh. “I was about to leave.”

He retrieved his armor left in the corner of the room and brushed past Hawke to leave the room.

“Your sword is in the hallway!” Hawke said over his shoulder.

Hawke stepped into the room and put the tray on the desk.

“Are you feeling better?” he asked with genuine concern.

“Yes. Thank you, Hawke. I still can't believe you carried me all the way.”

“I didn't.”

“Hmm?”

“After two hours, my arms were a bit sore, so we took a break. But when I was ready to get going again, Fenris said he would carry you.”

“And… he did?”

“Of course he did. And he watched over you all night long. Sent me out this morning, said he needed to talk to you. Look, I know you don't really like him, but please, be comprehensive. He's been through a lot.”

“What does it have to do with any of this?”

“So… he didn't tell you?”

“Tell me what?”

Hawke sighed and shook his head.

“Once he'd have told you, please react nicely. Don't be too harsh.”

“I have no idea what you're talking about.”

“Not yet. As for...” Hawke hesitated.

“Yes?”

“You're aware you and I are just flirting, right? It won't get beyond this point.”

“It's to Fenris you should be telling this. He's the one growling every fucking time you smile at me.”

 

 

 

Isabela couldn't take it anymore. She'd listened, and she'd watched, and she'd witnessed, and she made promises, but she really couldn't remain silent anymore. So she told everything to the storyteller, getting it all off her chest.

Varric raised his eyebrows and shook his head.

“I don't believe you.”

“I swear it! Fenris is jealous when Hawke is near Anders. And Anders is jealous when Hawke is near Fenris. Anders thinks it's because Fenris is in love with Hawke, and Fenris and Hawke think it's because Anders is in love with Hawke.”

“Then who is in love with Hawke if Blondie and Broody are not in love with Hawke?”

“Well, I guess Hawke is in love with himself.”

“Very funny. Then why so much jealousy?”

“Really? Do I have to explain it to you? Anders is madly in love with Fenris.”

“That is nonsense. I have eyes too. Anders glares at Fenris when he dares to approach Hawke. And he _flirted_ with Hawke. He's in love with Hawke, not the elf.”

“I'm telling you, they're in love.”

“All right. I concede Blondie might possibly have a crush on the elf, because he's that big of a masochist. But Broody? He flirted with Hawke, _slept_ with Hawke, and still wears that red thing around his arm, and he hates magic, he hates mages, he hates Blondie's manifesto, Blondie's speeches. He glares at Blondie, he glowers at Blondie, he growls at Blondie, he snarls, he sighs, he huffs...”

“He cried out Anders' name when he was in bed with Hawke.”

“...he broods and WHAT?”

“I promised Hawke I would never tell anyone so I didn't tell anyone.”

“Shit Rivaini, you're lying. You would never conceal such a dirty secret for so long.”

“And how do you explain that Fenris actually carried Anders on our way back to Kirkwall?”

“He was worried Hawke would be too tired to fuck him that night.”

“Last time Hawke fucked Fenris he was called by another name. I guess he won't repeat the experience. Though, Fenris could call me by any name if I was to...”

“Rivaini, there's a difference between fantasies and reality.”

“All right, I'll show you. Prepare your sovereigns, I'll win this bet!”

She grabbed a chair and got it out of the room, under Varric's curious gaze.

“Tonight is Wicked Grace night. And I'll prove my point by just removing one chair.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, first kiss. And Isabela has a plan!  
> I hope you liked the chapter.  
> Thank you so much for your lovely comments, I love them!


	6. “Do you find me hot now, mage?”

It was Wicked Grace night and Anders entered the Hanged Man, ready to steal everyone's coins – foolish hope never killed anyone after all. Well, maybe it did. Anders stopped at the threshold, furrowing his brows. Something was missing.

“Where am I supposed to sit? On the floor?”

Isabela immediately stood up and waved at her own sit.

“You can have my chair, sparklefingers.”

“And where are you going to sit?”

She wiggled her eyebrows and smiled viciously. Anders just shrugged and sat next to Varric, in front of Fenris. He internally smiled, as he could easily look at the elf as much as he wanted. And then Hawke, sitting next to Fenris, whispered something in the elf's ear, and Anders frowned, folding his arms.

“Do you mind?” Isabela asked Hawke.

She didn't wait for an answer and sat on his lap, wrapping an arm around his shoulders, her breast just an inch away from Hawke's face. Immediately, Aveline, Merrill, Varric and Anders turned to look at Fenris, who just sipped his wine with a deadpan look on his face. No growling, no snarling, no glowering.

“Broody? Are you ill?”

Fenris looked up at the dwarf and raised his eyebrows.

“Hmm? I'm fine, why?”

Anders pointed at Isabela, who was rubbing her cheek against Hawke's beard, Hawke staying still, a bit stunned, and maybe aroused, if they were to witness his flushed cheeks and his dark eyes. The elf turned slowly his head and his gaze locked on the couple next to him.

“Be careful, Hawke.” he warned. “I saw the mage handing her a salve for some… private issue.”

The whole party gaped at him and Isabela grinned.

“Varric.” she said, turning to the dwarf as she stretched an arm and opened her hand, as though she waited for him to give her something. “It is time to honor our bet.”

“That proves nothing!” the dwarf retorted, folding his arms.

“All right.”

Isabela left Hawke's lap and bypassed the round table, until she was just behind Anders. Her hands came to rest on his shoulders, and then slowly slipped under his collar and his shirt, fondling his torso.

“Hmm, not as much chest hair as Varric, but it feels good.”

And then there was a very loud growl filling the room and Anders glanced at Fenris. Hands clenched in fists on the table, he was looking daggers at Isabela, teeth bared in an indignant pout as he kept snarling at the pirate. It was the only sound that could be heard in Varric's room, everyone still gaping at Fenris, who suddenly stood up and skirted the table. His gauntleted fingers grabbed Isabela's wrists and he shoved her hands away. She raised them in surrender.

“All right, he's all yours.” she said.

She turned to Varric again and the dwarf sighed, before handing her a few sovereigns.

“Maybe you had it all set up.” he accused her.

“And why would Fenris play along?”

“Good point.”

“Fenris?” Anders squeaked.

Anders was staring at the elf standing beside him with widened eyes. Was it another joke in order to mock the mage? Did he found out about Anders' feelings and was now playing with him? It surely could not be anything else that made him look so… jealous.

“Do you find me hot now, mage?”

“Uh?”

“I recall you saying jealous Fenris was pretty hot.”

Maybe he was falling for the pirate captain. That could be a possible explanation. And he wasn't jealous at the sight of Hawke and Isabela together because… it was a threesome? He looked suspiciously at Isabela and she shook her head, obviously figuring out what he was thinking. She walked to Merrill, leaned, and thoroughly kissed the blood mage, tongue and hands involved. Anders glanced at Fenris, who seemed more disdainful at the sight than jealous.

“Now that you've made your point, Rivaini, you could bring back that chair so that we could play.”

“No need.” Anders said, rising up to his feet, his knees shaking slightly. “I'm returning to the clinic. I have… er… a starving cat to feed.”

Then he took his staff and stormed out of the room. The way to Darktown was long, very long. He was listening to the sound of his footsteps on the floor, trying to focus on the tempo. But the annoying thoughts that wouldn't leave his mind were torturing him. The elf, jealous, because of Anders. That didn't make sense. Fenris was in love with Hawke and had been so since their first meeting. Anders never stood a chance. Did he?

He entered his clinic, locked the door and retreated to his small bedroom. He leaned his staff against the wall and took off his coat before pacing nervously. He unintentionally tripped over his staff and it fell on him before he could dodge. The sharp blade at the end of the staff brushed his arm, though Anders would have instead used the word 'peel' as a wave of pain surged through his body.

“Andraste's knickerweasels!” he exclaimed, dodging before the blade could end up on his left feet.

The staff hit the floor in a loud noise and Anders sighed, before looking at his arm.

“Fuck, that was my last shirt.”

Now he didn't own a single shirt that was not torn or bloody somewhere.

“Mage?”

Anders jumped and panicked. What was he supposed to do? He heard a knock at the door of his bedroom and sighed, resigned. He opened it and glowered at the elf.

“How did you come in? I locked the door” he barked.

And then his eyes dropped on the lit markings that were fading and he shook his head in disbelief. He wished to be alone, he was not ready to face the elf yet! He still didn't understand, he still had no idea of what was going on, and the elf dared to show up his face while Anders was so confused he considered leaving the city and never coming back.

“Who gave you the right?”

“Why are you angry?” Fenris asked, tilting his head. And then he saw Anders' bloody arm and his hand immediately reached out, grabbing Anders' wrist, as his other hand gently moved the torn fabric aside to have a look at the wound. “How is it that you always end up wounded even in the safety of your own clinic?”

“I would have you know that this clinic is far from safe.” Anders retorted, drawing away from Fenris' touch.

He put a hand on his wound and healed it without so much as thinking of the elf nearby, who hissed.

“Why are you here?” Anders asked, brushing past the elf to enter the clinic, heading to the shelf where he took a rag, soaking it into the water before cleaning the blood on his renewed skin.

“It is pretty obvious.” Fenris said in a mocking tone.

“Not to me.”

“Isabela's right. You really are stupid.”

“I am not, Fenris. I'm just… careful.”

“What do you mean?”

“I have learned the harsh way that dreams, desires, and illusions always lead to deception and pain. Speculate now on why you're here would be hoping. And I stopped hoping a while ago.”

Fenris huffed and Anders glanced at him. He was smirking again.

“I know you better than you know yourself. You never stopped hoping.”

“That… you're...”

“But I understand your point of view. So I will make myself clear.”

Anders blinked and waited for the elf to continue. But he didn't. Instead he closed the distance between them, until their faces were an inch apart.

“Fenris?” Anders squeaked, frozen.

“Tell me, mage.”

“Tell you what?”

“Why were you so jealous?”

“Me, jealous? It's the pot calling the kettle black!”

“It's your fault! Always smiling at him, hugging him, staring at him, flirting with him.”

“Ha! Very funny! You never smile to anyone but Hawke. You never let anyone touch you but Hawke. You kept staring at him if he dared approaching me, and you _bedded_ him!”

“I… did. And it was a mistake. I… I have never stopped thinking about you, mage. It took me a while to accept my feelings.”

It was too much. Anders was fucking angry! At Hawke for bedding Fenris, at Isabela for her little show earlier, at Fenris for his weird jealousy, and at himself, for wasting so much time just because he did not dare to hope. It was over! Anders grasped Fenris' breastplate and pulled him violently so their lips crashed together. Fenris _hmphed_ but didn't pull away from the mage. Instead, he buried his hands in Anders' hair and moaned, as he tilted his head to kiss the mage properly. A wet tongue came to stroke Anders' lips and the mage parted them to allow it in. The elf was so warm, and soft, and he tasted like lyrium and wine, smelled like steel and leather. Anders' hand was still gripping the breastplate, but it was too hard and cold, and it seemed to separate their bodies in a way that Anders could not support. His fingers found the clasps and tried to unfasten them, but Fenris' hands left Anders' hair and quickly grabbed his wrists, and the elf pulled away. Anders let go of a whimper.

“Mage,” Fenris warned him. “Maybe now is not the time.”

“Why?”

“You're still confused. You may have a chance with Hawke. I do not wish to be your default option. I am no second choice.”

“Why are you bringing Hawke into this?” Anders asked, pouting. “He has nothing to do with this. And it would be madness to make a second choice of you. You will always be my first choice. My _only_ choice.”

Oh Maker, the way Fenris' eyes shimmered, the way a genuine little smile curled up the corners of his beautiful wet lips, the way he suddenly stroked Anders' cheek. Anders could die from all this.

“I do not wish to rush things.” Fenris whispered.

“It's been so long now that I've been watching you, that you've been haunting my sleep, that you've been obsessing me, whatever we do, it feels like we will never be able to rush this.”

“Then if you're willing to give us a chance, come to me tomorrow, by nightfall. I will be waiting for you.”

Fenris brushed his lips against Anders, before turning on his heels. His markings glowed intensely before he phased through the locked door, leaving a stunned but happy Anders. Well, happy was not the word. Because it was almost painful, as though he was about to die. Die from happiness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY! Thank you Isabela!  
> So that was the last chapter, though I'm definitely thinking of writing a part 2 with the smutty scene, and a part three with the main story from Fenris' point of view, so we can witness his own jealousy through other scenes. Let me know what you think about it.  
> Thank you for reading this short story, thank your for the kudos and the comments, you're lovely little readers.  
> I'm working on a new fic, that I hope will be soon ready to be shared.  
> Coeur sur vous.


End file.
